


The Raven Queen's New Clothes

by Grimmseye



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: All my Angos are Drangos, Humor, Kravitz is dying on the inside, Kravitz is friends with Magic Brian, Mild Angst, Multi, Other, Reaper Squad, The Raven Queen forgot how to be mortal a long long time ago
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-07-25 17:32:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16202306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimmseye/pseuds/Grimmseye
Summary: The Raven Queen realizes she needs to make some changes in her domain — the only problem is figuring outhow.The obvious solution? Infiltrate her own workplace, disguised as a reaper. No one will suspect a thing.-------Before Kravitz can say a word, though, Lup finds where Barry is looking. He sees the recognition in her eyes, and without a beat, she crows, “Whoa! Who’s the hot babe?”Kravitz’s soul? Dust. He’s going to retire to the astral sea, thank you.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An idea born in a TAZ roleplay server, that I was thankfully allowed to run away with. This will probably have two or three chapters in total!

Fridays mean a few things for a few people. 

For Kravitz, and Lup, and Barry, it means paperwork. If they don’t have an active bounty, they’re sitting around a desk, bickering over the exact details of their report and whether or not they should describe Lup’s sweet new spell in explicit detail in their review of the reaping. 

For Taako and Angus, it’s magic day. It’s lobbing spells back and forth, Taako’s new umbrella and Angus’ new wand (third total, between the one that got eaten and the one that broke) swinging like baseball bats to keep a ball of light from touching the ground. 

For Ren, it’s a well-earned break. She props her feet up on the table and thinks of the past, thinks of old friends and new ones and where they are today. 

For Magnus, it’s the day he brings his dogs to the local elementary school. Plenty of kids are scared of the dark, after S-S Day, and letting them play with something big and furry and friendly works wonders to convince their parents that a pet could be what they need.

Everyone has something to do on a Friday. For the Raven Queen? It’s Tea Day. 

Ordinarily, she and Istus meet in Pan’s domain. He has the best tea leaves, after all, but today the Raven Queen is hosting their get-together. On this particular Friday, Pan shows up with a tins full of an assortment of freshly-harvested tea leaves, Istus with a tray of pastries, and the two of them sit down on the black velvet cushions that the Raven Queen conjured as their friend and fellow god welcomes them back to her plane. 

Her castle doesn’t have the bright colors of Istus’ domain, or the  _ jungle  _ that Pan calls a garden. She does have potted nightshade for him to croon over, and a certain elegance in the gothic architecture. Istus clasps her hands together at the tapestry that cascades down the wall, red and black depicting an unkindness of ravens swarming the former god of death to rake talons over his skin and pluck out his eyes. 

“This is  _ gorgeous,”  _ she sighs, running her fingers over the tapestry, the red material crackling with embers beneath her touch. 

“One of my clerics sacrificed it to me,” the Raven Queen tells her, a croon in her voice. “Alongside the skull of a wretched vampire.” 

“That’s sweet of them!” Istus took her seat, setting a tray of different pastries down on the floor between them. The treats I brought were actually a sacrifice from Taako, you know. I had a spider weave a web asking him to.” Istus isn’t usually so direct, but then, her emissaries are quite strange, today. 

“So how did you reward them?” Is Pan’s question, his face warm and eager for the answer. 

And that is what gives the Raven Queen pause. “Explain your meaning.”

“Their reward?” Istus prompts. “It sounds like they’re quite a devoted cleric, carrying out your will.”

“They will be given a peaceful resting place in the afterlife,” the Raven Queen states. “Or they may continue their service to me as a reaper.” 

She doesn’t quite understand why that makes Istus and Pan go silent, nor does she understand the gaze exchanged between them. Istus folds her arms — all six of them — and gives the Raven Queen a pointed look. “Raven,” she says. “My love. Your Inevitable Grace. That’s not a gift.”

“Explain  _ that _ to me,” she demands. Her feathers begin to dry out and wither, the darkness in the gaps of her mask cold. “Explain how my guardianship of their eternal souls is  _ not  _ a gift.” 

“That’s your  _ job _ , Raven,” Pan says, picking up the tea pot to pour Istus her preferred lavender brew. “I can’t look at my worshippers and say,  _ well you have trees, you’re welcome.”  _ He breaks into a laugh. 

Istus titters and chimes in, “I’m not leaving you to wallow in despair and ignorance regarding the future, you’re welcome.”

“You know how my plants give you food to eat and air to breathe? I think that’s  _ more _ than enough.” 

“I  _ could  _ tell my emissaries not to let this world spiral into total annihilation, what more do you want from me?” 

Both of them are laughing as the Raven Queen’s feathers begin to lift and fluff out, her mask turning sharply away. 

Istus is still giggling as she leans forward, playing a hand on one of her wings. “Oh, Raven, your job is perhaps the most important of all of ours. When fate is harsh, or one succumbs to the force of the natural world,  _ you  _ are the one who cares for all of our subjects. But my love, I believe that  _ your  _ worshippers would appreciate it if you gave them, say, a familiar in exchange for their service! Or perhaps a cool cloak, or the ability to see ghosts — just little things that let them know they’re appreciated.”

“Not that it’s foolproof,” Pan snorts, a fond, exasperated smile on his face. “I give Merle a new, fuctioning arm, with which I am able to directly commune with him, and he still believed I had forsaken him.”

“He wasn’t himself,” Istus reminds him, delicate. 

“Fair, fair.” Pan selects one of the macarons off the plate, giving it an appraising look. “You really just told your emissary to make these, huh?” 

“You of all gods cannot scold me about professionalism,” Istus snorts. “We all have our exceptions. Your Merle, Raven has Kravitz — speaking of which, how is he? I haven’t spoken to him in a bit.”

The Raven Queen is silent. Pan and Istus exchange a glance, and then scoot a bit closer to her feathered, incomprehensible form. 

“Raven,” Pan says, voice gentle. “What’s going on?”

“Kravitz,” she says, “has been the most loyal of all my reapers for a millenium now.” And she lifts her mask, the whispers of her voice sounding downright timid as she asks, “Do you think he feels unappreciated?”

“Of course not,” Pan is quick to assure her. “You’ve told him you value his work, haven’t you?”

“Or given him a token of your blessing?” Istus suggests.

“Invited him to dinner?” Pan tries. 

“Asked about his  _ day?”  _ Istus breathes, exasperated now.

The Raven Queen is silent.

“Oh no.” Pan bites his lip. “Well. My friend, you may have fucked up.” 

A cacophony of sound emits from under her mouth, the low rattle of a raven layered on top of itself into a chattering echo. “I… do not know how to fix this,” the Raven Queen admits, with a rare inflection in her many voices: shame. 

“Well, if your subjects feel unsatisfied, just ask them what it is they want,” Pan says, through a mouthful of macaron. “Usually they’ll just pray, but your followers are a little different.”

And his words make the Raven Queen brighten. Her form shifts towards their own, an eagerness in the tilt of her wings. “That’s exactly what I will do,” she rasps. “And I know the best way to go about it.” 

  
  
  
  


Kravitz squints over the edge of his tome. 

“So,” he says, work accent in place but voice uncertain. “You are the new recruit.”

The woman that stands before him is probably human. He thinks that’s the form she was going for, human. The tone of her skin is a deep, dark,  _ grey _ , though, a color that might be found in an orc or tiefling, but certainly not on the body she’d chosen. That didn’t begin to address her “hair,” long feathers cascading down her back, or the indecipherable black depths of her eyes. 

“That’s correct,” she hisses, a smile on her face. “My name is  _ Regina _ . I was a human woman, I lead a short and uneventful life, and I worshiped Her Inevitable and Eternal Majesty, the Raven Queen. And now I am a reaper.”

Kravitz’s head dips into a slow nod. “Uh-huh,” he says. “Okay. Regina.” 

He holds her gaze. She smiles. She keeps smiling. She doesn’t blink. 

Kravitz sighs, “Why don’t we get you fitted with a uniform.” 

“That sounds efficient,” Regina tells him, still smiling. 

Kravitz ducks his head, catches himself about to bow and turns it into an awkward, full-body nod. “This way, then,” he says, sweeping an arm forward. Regina doesn’t really  _ walk  _ on the ground, he notices, so much as her legs moving and her body just sort of sliding its location forward in space. 

Wardrobe is located towards the bowels of the castle. Kravitz guides her past a few reapers on their way out, more than a few skulls turning a full 180 to stare at Kravitz and Regina, only turning away when Kravitz gives them a shake of the head and a helpless shrug. 

“First, we offer a variety of different outfits,” Kravitz says. He just needs to pretend this is a regular worker at orientation, and not the goddess of Death Herself. “I prefer to switch up my suit, but this cloak is a constant in my uniform.” He sweeps it about his shoulders, doing a heel-spin to display the iridescence of his feathers, from black to navy blue as they catch the firelight. 

“You may take your pick. We do favor business formal clothes, but accessories or certain levels of distress are encouraged. Ultimately, the goal is to intimidate our prey while representing Her Majesty in an honorable manner.” He gives her a once over, then feels the need to apologize profusely for eyeing his Queen in such a disrespectful manner. But, no, she’s  _ Regina  _ right now. 

He swallows. “First, would you prefer a suit, a dress, or a robe? Those are the typical  _ bases  _ for our uniforms.” 

Kravitz looks to her, finding Regina’s face caught in deep concentration. Her eyes are darting through the room, over racks and racks of clothing they offer. “Um,” she croaks, and her gaze fixes on Kravitz. “... I’ll try a suit.” 

Kravitz snaps his fingers, and the racks shift suddenly, bringing a line of blouses and button-up shirts to the forefront. “Let’s see. I believe red would be a good color on you, My —” He coughs. “Um.  _ Regina.  _ Unless you have a preference, of course.” 

“I don’t perceive color the way you do,” Regina announces. Kravitz is silent for a good, long while, until Regina says, “Red is adequate.” 

“... As you wish.” Kravitz draws a deep breath. He can’t exactly pray to his Queen for strength in this situation. 

The outfit they pick out for her  _ does  _ look quite good, if he does say so himself. Black pinstripes with a dark red button-up and a sleek tie. They pick a cape for her, pinned onto her shoulders with buttons that resemble raven skulls, and Kravitz sets a black-leaf and bone laurel in her feathered hair. There’s an odd sense of pride in his chest as he appraises her, his Queen looking not just regal but also powerful under his design. 

“Excellent,” Kravitz claps his hands together. “Now, all reapers are granted a second form by Her Majesty’s grace, like so.” He dissolves his appearance down to the bone, the red lights of his eyes fixed upon her. A skeletal hand gesture to her as he says, “Now you try.” 

“Like this?” She asks, and then her body bursts into a mass of bones and shadows, screaming ravens in her depths that has Kravitz’s soul trembling in his core. In a blink, she’s back, eyes expectant.

“... Yes,” Kravitz nods. “Good work.” He hesitates, then claps her on the shoulder. “Now, let’s find a scythe for you.” 

As he strides away, he hears Regina murmur under her breath,  _ “Good work.”  _

  
  
  
  


When he approaches the armory and is greeted by a distinct  _ crash,  _ Kravitz feels his soul wither a little. His pace increases, dread rising in his chest as Regina matches his step all the way to the door and then through it. 

And Kravitz? Should have  _ known  _ those two would be behind it. 

Barry Bluejeans’ head snaps up as he enters, halfway bent down with an armful of scythes. “Oh, hey boss,” he greets, giving a nervous sort of grin. His eyes flicker behind Kravitz, brow immediately furrowing. “Uh —” 

“Barold holy  _ shit,”  _ and Lup flounces out from behind a display, a scythe that was  _ not hers  _ in her hands, a blade of amethyst that she tipped back and forth as she says, “this one’s — aw, dunk, what’sup Ghost Rider?” 

She has the audacity to hide the scythe behind her, as though the arc of its blade didn’t rise above her head. Before Kravitz can say a word, though, Lup finds where Barry is looking. He sees the recognition in her eyes, and without a beat, she crows, “Whoa! Who’s the hot babe?”

Kravitz’s soul?  _ Dust.  _ He’s going to retire to the astral sea, thank you. There’s a shit eating grin on Lup’s face and incredulous amusement on Barry’s that tells him they both know  _ exactly  _ what they’re doing. 

“My name’s Regina,” his Queen says, folding a hand against her chest and giving a shallow bow. Barry and Lup mirror it, Lup holding direct eye-contact with Kravitz as she smirks. “So,” she says, smiling around at them. “I am meant to receive a scythe.” 

“That’s correct. Um, why don’t you look around and see what you think fits you,” Kravitz says, placing a delicate hand between her shoulder blades. “I need to talk to my  _ coworkers  _ here about a bounty.” 

He leaves that to her, striding forward to take both Lup and Barry by the hems of their cloaks and pull them towards the back of the room. As soon as they’re out of earshot, he releases them, spinning around to hiss,  _ “What are you doing?”  _

“No idea but I’m having a good time,” Lup says, twirling the scythe between her fingers. 

Kravitz snatches it from her. “And what are you doing with this?”

“Taako wanted a scythe.” It’s Barry who says this, rubbing the back of his neck. “He wants to, uh, examine the magic. And, well, technically we’re not  _ not  _ allowed to give him one.” When Kravitz’s glare deepens, he wisens up and switches gears, asking, “So, what’s up with Her Majesty?” 

Kravitz disappears the scythe. He’ll have to find its proper place later. “I’m not certain,” he admits, leaning in, the other two forming sort of a huddle with him. His voice lowers to a whisper, “For some reason, She’s decided to disguise Herself as one of Her own reapers. I don’t believe it would be wise to call her ruse. As far as we’re concerned, She is the reaper Regina, and we are to be  _ on our best behavior  _ while She is observing us. Understand?” 

“Sure thing, boss,” Barry says, Lup giving an agreeing hum. “So, you have no idea what she wants?”

“Perhaps to observe our work?” A pang of anxiety hits him. “I admit I have been… bending the rules a considerable amount. Lifting bounties, hiring liches.  _ You _ , Barold, are my longest standing personal failure —”

“Hell yeah, babe,” Lup murmurs, and high-five Barry. 

“Stop that,” Kravitz glares. “What I’m saying is that all three of us could be in  _ very deep shit  _ if we don’t —”

“Kravitz?”

They spring apart, all three whirling around to look at Regina. She holds a scythe that resembles the beak of a raven, the underside carved into a serrated edge. “I like this one,” she says. “It makes me feel… cool.” 

“You look fucking  _ dope,  _ babe,” Lup grins, and throws an arm around her shoulders. “Hell  _ yes.  _ You’re gonna go on missions with us, right? I need another gal on the team.” Her eyes lift to Kravitz, who is still a little horrified by how casually she’s touching his Queen, and she winks.

Kravitz swallows his instinctive protest. This is a good idea, actually. They can show the Raven Queen that they’re perfectly competent reapers, that Kravitz’s request to hire two liches had been a good one, and everyone’s happy. 

Regina beams. “That suits my needs perfectly,” she declares. 

“Why don’t we plan for that another day,” Kravitz cuts in, before anyone can get ahead of themselves. “Regina is new, after all, it would be…  _ unwise  _ to put her on a bounty right off the bat. We’ll need to at least run her through the rules, the different bounty levels, our discretion policy, not to mention an actual combat assessment —”

“How ‘bout I take care of that last one?” Lup offers. 

Kravitz squints at her. As much as Lup seems to delight in — what’s the term — stealing his goats, she’s also quite genuine. It’s one of the more notable differences between her and Taako. So he gives a cautious nod, and Lup flashes him a thumbs-up. 

“That sounds good. I can show Regina to her quarters and… I suppose Lup here will run you through our typical tests. Our Queen gifts us all with physical and magical prowess far beyond any mortal’s, but  _ having  _ and  _ using  _ these abilities are two different matters.” He says this in a matter-of-fact tone to Regina, and then winces. “Not… not that I’m saying you won’t be capable. I’m sure you’ll perform above and beyond, My, uh, well, let’s go.”

There’s a snicker from Lup and a sigh from Barry, the three of them falling into step to engage Regina with cautious small talk as Kravitz leads her to quarters he’s  _ certain  _ she won’t be using. The Raven Queen, sleeping in a bed for novice-ranked reapers? It’s a laughable concept. Also anxiety-inducing. 

He really hopes he doesn’t have to keep this up for long. 

  
  
  
  


Lup and Barry typically don’t spent their nights in the Astral Plane. They  _ have  _ a home, it’s jointed with Taako and Kravitz’s. On this particular day, though, all three of them had rung her brother up on the stone to explain that the situation was just a bit too important to leave unmonitored. 

He’d fussed, of course, griping about having to change his dinner plans and having to pick Angus up himself now and the cats were going to get finicky — but the complaints were underlaid with a tone of concern until they petered out into an anxious silence and they all exchanged an awkward farewell. 

Time doesn’t really feel the same in the Astral Plane, even though the flow was unchanged. The caws of ravens are what rouse them, Lup’s eyes opening to stare at their dark ceiling as Barry’s arms tighten around her. His face is buried against her shoulder blades, a protesting mumble escaping his lips as she slips out of his arms. 

“Wakey wakey, babe,” she smiles, giving his hair a rumple. Blue eyes peek open to look at her, still hazy for a moment. Then they clear, and he smiles, and  _ gods above,  _ that makes her heart feel full. 

“G’mornin’,” Barry says, jaws breaking into a yawn. They both slip out of bed and into the shower, starting their morning routine. The two of them are the only reapers that could be considered  _ alive,  _ and even that was a sketchy term at best. They inhabited bodies, unlike their coworkers — constructs all around, which meant it had been no problem for the Raven Queen to conjure up a sizeable bathroom for their designated quarters. 

Lup’s dressing to impress this morning. Her style ranges from Victorian Gothic to Fantasy Hot Topic for work, but she’s leaning a little closer to the former today. Black dress, deep red leggings, hair tied up in a bun crowned with feathers: full reaper Regalia today. There  _ are  _ a pair of shorts under there just so she doesn’t have to be shy about doing some sweet flips. 

Barry’s actually ditched the jeans today, which he usually only does when Kravitz is in full theater mode. Sometimes it’s fun to dress up and be spooky, sometimes it’s fun to watch evil pieces of shit realize that the devil wears bluejeans. 

They kiss at the door before parting ways, Barry headed to meet up with Kravitz, Lup for  _ Regina’s  _ room. Her feet want to carry her to the throne room, finding it strange to head for where the new recruits are housed. It’s all temporary arrangements, for the trial period until reapers properly swear into the Queen’s service. 

Regina’s door is the last at the end of a corridor. It expands as needed, and at the moment they have a fair amount of new hires. Story and Song brought with it an uptick in necromancy, simultaneously met with a mass retirement, according to Kravitz. Apparently being consumed by the Hunger, even as temporary as it had been, drove plenty of his former coworkers to finally seek their eternal rest. 

It’s probably a good thing, for her and Barry. She doesn’t like to think about how  _ fragile  _ the safety of their souls are, but she has no doubt it helped convince Queenie to recruit them. Having a pair of liches on the team would counterbalance her loss of reapers. 

If she decides she doesn’t need them anymore, that her laws should be held even above their own special circumstances… Well, that’s not a fun thought. She’s seen the stockade. She’s seen what happens to  _ liches _ , specifically, as the magic is unwoven from their souls so they can finally rest. 

It isn’t pleasant. 

Lup shakes her head. This is why she’s here, after all. Taako’s not the only one who can sweet-talk their way out of death jail. 

She summons her scythe, a blade that is heftier than Kravitz’s, red-tinted metal glowing in the light of the braziers that illuminate the corridor. She gives a jaunty knock on the door, voice light as she calls, “Hey, newbie, hope you’re —” 

The door swings open. It’s soundless, the handle not even turning, and Lup has to flinch back to avoid being hit. Regina stands in the doorway, dressed in her own uniform, fixing Lup with a colorless gaze. “Lup,” she observes. Then her lips pull into a smile. “I see you’re ready for the day. Show me to our location. Please.” 

There’s a courtyard outside the Raven Queen’s palace. Nestled on the edge of the Sea of Souls, the iridescent waves lapping at the edges of a garden of hemlock. She guides Regina out over a mosaic pavilion, one framed by stone benches, columns and open archways. Ravens perch on the edges, more of them flocking with an interest to this unfamiliar form of their Queen. 

Regina summons her scythe, Lup walking a wide circle around her to tap her body into place. “Don’t keep your legs too close together, you’ll fall over,” she says, giving Regina a push between the shoulder blades to demonstrate. She doesn’t move the slightest bit.

Lup blinks at her. “Or maybe you’re good. Everyone’s got their own style, that’s cool, that’s cool.”

Pretending that she’s not showing a literal goddess how to channel her own magic is like pretending her husband doesn’t understand necromancy: kind of hilarious. The Goddess of Death vacillates between raising shadows of monstrous ravens and acting like she doesn’t know how to swing a scythe, and Lup has to play along, pepper in the appropriate amount of  _ ’Aw, darn’ _ s and  _ ’You’ll get it next time!’ _ s when Regina just holds her scythe out and drops it, feigning disappointment.

They’re trading off in a physical spar, Lup on defensive, when Regina says, “Lup, do you like working here?” 

Her grip loosens a little, letting Regina in too close. She hooks the curve of her scythe around the hilt of Lups, giving it a tug that sends it clattering to the ground and then twirling in the same move — when it stops, the blade arcs around the back of Lup’s neck, the edge just nipping her skin. 

It’s a little hot. 

She draws in a slow breath. “What was that?” Lup asks, plastering on a smile. 

Regina blinks. It looks a little forced. “Do you like working here?” She repeats. 

Lup swallows. She edges back, and when Regina doesn’t move, sets delicate fingers on the flat of the blade to push it away from herself. “Well,” she starts, lifting a hand to twirl a lock of hair around her finger, “I mean, yeah. I get to wear dope clothes and beat dickwads with a scythe, it’s a pretty chill gig. The whole not being locked in ghost jail for ghosts is a major bonus, too.” 

Regina inclines her head, finally withdrawing her scythe to plant it at her side, the raven’s beak  arcing over her own head. “And is there anything you don’t like?” 

She was cautious, watching Regina with wary eyes. “I mean…” As she started speaking, Regina leaned in, eyes looking brighter than ever.  _ Interested.  _ Lup’s ears tilted upwards. “The hours kind of suck,” Lup says, voice slow, watching each word. “My brother keeps getting pissed at me and Barry cause we keep missing dinner. And I know it stresses Kravitz out, which makes him get snappish at us.” 

Oh. Oh, she was  _ definitely  _ interested in what Lup was saying. More confidence came into her words as she said, “Like, don’t get me wrong, this whole thing is  _ real _ generous. My husband and I are kind of abominations to the laws of nature, the fact we can just pay our dues reaping souls is a damn good deal. I’d just like to have a weekend alone with him sometimes, especially after not seeing him for like, twelve years. I was trapped in an umbrella, it’s a  _ wild  _ story, babe.” 

A story Regina evidently wants to hear. The two of them end up seated cross-legged on the mosaic as Lup explains it — from the beginning, how she and Barry got together and how they decided they needed to become liches. Coming to Faerun and putting the relics out into the world, the destruction and her need to end it, getting trapped in her umbrella in doing so and the unbearable  _ wait  _ that followed, a prisoner by her own creation, nowhere to go, nothing but black curtained walls for  _ years  _ after, how she missed her brother, her husband, her family, she missed  _ freedom,  _ she missed  _ feeling,  _ she missed being able to do or say  _ anything  _ and having someone  _ notice _ —

She’s left shaking. Her eyes go wide, staring down at her own two, trembling hands. “Wow,” she laughs, the sound fragile. “Guess — guess that got to cha’girl a lot more than she realized.” She draws in a sharp breath, turning her face away. The fuck is she  _ doing,  _ spouting all this to her  _ boss.  _

Regina, unsurprisingly, looks unmoved. Still, she folds her hands in her lap, dark eyes fixed upon Lup without so much as a flicker away. “You have an eternity to recover,” she says, voice a rasp. 

“Yeah.” Lup grins, a bit forced. “Kind of stupid for me to be whining when I’ve literally got all the time in the world to get my shit together.”

There’s a beat of silence. Regina’s eyes turn away, fixing out open the sea of souls, tranquil waters that it has. “Though perhaps… a moment of rest is advisable. Damaged souls are left to recover before they can reincarnate back into life. Reapers aren’t allowed that reprieve.” 

Lup doesn’t respond to that. It blows, but she’s not going to push her luck with the goddess of death.  _ All the time in the world.  _ She needs to remember that. 

Regina gets to her feet without a word. She dips her head to Lup, says, “I am grateful for your help today. Did I perform adequately in my assessments?” 

“Oh, yeah, you’re all good.” Truth be told, Lup hadn’t run her through the proper tests yet. “You can tell Kravitz you’re all ready to be put on bounties.” She gets to her own feet, fixing Regina with a smile. “Anyway, I better go catch up with Barry. See you around, ‘Gina.” 

She turns to head back inside the castle, intent on finding her husband to hug the fuck out of him. And if Kravitz is there, too? Well, shit, he’s gonna have to deal with some family time snuggles. 

  
  
  
  


“So how’s the undercover work going?” 

Istus’ image flickers in the reflection of her mirror, the light of her true form radiating even across planes. She’s working on something new, a three sets of knitting needles clicking between her six hands. 

The Raven Queen has shed her mortal form, stretching her many wings as she says, “I’ve collected some useful data. Though, I believe the next few days will be quite —” And then she huffs. “How in Our names do mortals live this way, their little bodies are so  _ cramped.”  _ She shakes out a hand, its form going from feathered to scaled to coalesced shadow without pause between forms. 

Istus grins at her. “Has it been that long since you’ve walked in the Material Plane? No wonder you’re so behind on tradition.” 

“ _ Tradition  _ is behind on  _ me,”  _ The Raven Queen chirrs. Then, “I’m not certain what that actually means. It’s something I heard Lup say to Kravitz today, I believe you’re allowed to substitute the subject.”

A tittering laugh sounds from her lover, and The Raven Queen feels her radiance brighten. Fate is a glorious being. “Sounds like you’re having fun.” 

“I —” She stops.  _ Fun.  _ That’s not apart of her job.  _ Fun  _ is to be had with Istus and Pan, or watching her reapers break down those who defy her. “I suppose I am,” she says. “I am also… what is the word?  _ Confused.”  _

“Mmm?” Istus does not stop, but she slows her work. 

“Your emissaries,” she says. “Do they ever… express their sorrows to you?” 

That  _ does  _ make Istus pause. The needles click together, and then her project shimmers into nothingness. “Well, yes, they do,” she says. “All of them, though I believe you’re more interested in my birds?” When the Raven Queen inclines her mask, she continues, “Magnus does not often come to me with his quandaries. While he is certainly an influence in my domain, he doesn’t seem much of one for divine guidance.”

“And the other one?” The Raven Queen prompts. “Taako?”

Istus smiles. “He’s far more vocal about his grievances. Fears for the future, worries about his sister and her husband, that boy he cares for, Angus, he’s always doubting himself in that regard —” 

“Does he say anything about  _ Kravitz?”  _

The Raven Queen only regrets the outburst at the knowing smile Istus gives her. “He does,” she tells her. “Kravitz is your best reaper, and he’s very aware of it. He works himself to the bone — no pun intended? No, actually, it’s fully intended.” A laugh. “This isn’t your fault, Raven, this is all on Kravitz. He’s a bit of a workaholic, and he’s forgotten how to live. Putting his job before his life in the Material Plane has caused them some trouble.” 

The Raven Queen thinks back. How many times has Kravitz requested a vacation? How many times has Kravitz asked her for  _ anything?  _ A personal audience to explain his release of three critical bounties, and then one more after to remove the remaining four and to hire Lup and Barry. Before that? 

“Oh,  _ Us,”  _ she curses. “Kravitz needs a vacation.”

“He does, but good luck telling him that,” Istus grins. 

“Lup does, too.” The Raven Queen’s feathers fluff out. “Istus, how do you do it?” 

Istus blinks through the mirror, leaning her jaw against the knuckles of one hand. The other five cross her torso or settle in her lap. “Do what?”

“Guidance.” She clicks her beak. “You have domain over fate, you are constantly guiding your followers. I never knew how  _ difficult  _ it is until now — trying to think of how to give them what they need while maintaining the order of my own domain, my feathers are going to fall out.” They’re wilting as she speaks. 

“Oh,  _ Raven _ .” Istus smiles, two of her hands propping underneath her chin, eight eyes upturned with affection. “I’ve always known your love for Kravitz, but it seems your new emissaries have gotten under your wings. Caring for them is difficult, I will admit. My guidance has lead my children astray before, and it will again. But when you are able to aid them, I promise it is worth the struggle.” 

A low croak shakes out of her beak, unsatisfied with this answer. Perhaps sensing her malcontent, Istus reclaims her knitting, the steady click of the needles starting up again. “Well, it sounds like you have more work to do,” she says, short and simple. “What are your plans for today?”

The Raven Queen lifts her gaze, sighing before saying, “Well, I’ve gotten some information from Kravitz and Lup, but I still need to talk to more of my reapers.” 

  
  
  
  


Kravitz has his hands folded in front of his mouth. His eyes are sharp, intent on the room in front of them, silent, watching. 

Barry shifts his weight back and forth. “Should we, uh…” He rubs the back of his neck. “Want me to get her?” 

“No,” is Kravitz’s immediate response. “I need to see what she’s doing.”

As far as Barry can tell, the Raven Queen is making everyone highly uncomfortable. She —  _ Regina  _ — sits in the middle of a group of reapers, all of whom seem uncertain if they should shift away to give her more space or hold perfectly still. 

“I don’t know why it’s such a difficult question,” Regina is saying, voice perfectly toneless. “What are your thoughts on the Raven Queen?” 

“Is she trying to collect  _ gossip?”  _ Kravitz hisses, more to himself than anyone. “This is just underhanded. If she wanted to spy on the other reapers she could have just asked me to do it.” 

Barry gives him a long look. “Hey, boss?” He waits for Kravitz to look at him. “Has anybody told you that you’re a fucking narc?”

He can see the feathers of his cloak fluff out as Kravitz draws himself up, Barry turning his gaze away to approach Regina before he can start snarking at him. 

“Yes, I  _ know  _ that the Raven Queen is glorious and inevitable — but what do you  _ feel  _ about her?” Regina is tapping an impatient foot, the reapers around her shifting with more and more nerves. 

Rescue operation, then. Barry shoulders his way between the skeletons, reaching to take her by the shoulder. A few scandalized gasps sound around him, all ignored as Regina’s head turns to him. “Hey,” he says, giving her a nervous smile. “We’re about ready to head out. You good?” 

“Oh, yes.” Regina pushes his hand off her shoulder. Her eyes flick behind her. “I see Kravitz. Where is Lup? It should be all four of us.” 

“She’ll be here in a moment,” Barry says, beginning to lead her back to where Kravitz is waiting. The other reapers part for him with a reluctance, mutters they don’t bother to hide from him —  _ “Making Her wait. Of course the  _ liches  _ would.”  _

He and Lup hadn’t gotten a warm reception. That’s fine. They had the approval of the two most important forces in the Astral Plane, some lower-ranked skeletons weren’t going to be able to do anything about it. So Barry is content to roll his eyes at them, and keep walking. 

Regina? Is not. 

He freezes in his tracks. So does everyone else. A shadow has bloomed across the tiles, wings stretching to cast their darkness over the far walls, a single hole of light opening up in the head of a raven upon the floor.

**W h o  s p o k e ?**

It is not the voice of Regina. This is the Raven Queen, the hiss of her voice chilling the marrow of his bones. 

**R e v e a l  y o u r s e l f .**

**T o  d i s r e s p e c t  m y r e a p e r s i s  t o d i s r e s p e c t y o u r  Q u e e n .**

Not a soul dares to speak. Out of the corner of his eye, Barry sees Kravitz, eyes wide and flickering about the room.

“My Queen?” 

Barry’s voice is alone, a single echo against the ceiling that yawns above. 

**S p e a k .**

“I appreciate your defense,” he says, “but please don’t worry.”

Silence. Then the shadow fades. The room reanimates, reapers scurrying away. Barry finally turns, seeing Regina striding towards him, face as blank as ever. She meets Barry’s eyes, unblinking. After a moment, he smiles, and then turns away. “Looks like Lup’s here,” he says, and indeed his wife is jogging towards them, dressed up in a suit for the day.

“Yo what the fuck did I  _ miss?”  _ She gasps, giving Barry and Kravitz a wide-eyed, delighted look. “I just saw Linda  _ booking it,  _ it was like a hellhound snagged her bones.”

“Somebody made an unnecessary remark about the two of you.” Regina is the one to speak. “I don’t believe Her Highness liked it.” 

Lup meets Barry’s gaze. He gives her a shrug and a grin. “Huh,” Lup says, blinking. “That’s pretty cool of the Bird Mama. … Uh, well,  _ this _ girl’s ready to kick ass, how about the rest of y’all?” 

They all give their affirmative, and Regina claps her hands together. “Excellent!” She says. “Let us go make bread! Or, perhaps the turn of phrase is  _ dead?”  _ She gives them a winning smile, and Barry has to admit, it looks a lot less forced than usual. 

Still, they’re all quiet for a long stretch. Barry glances at Lup. At Kravitz. Neither of them seem to understand what she’d said either, so at least he’s not alone. 

“Oh,” Kravitz gasps, suddenly. ‘My — I mean,  _ Regina,  _ did you mean make  _ dough?”  _

“You know we’re not paid for this, right?” Lup says, voice loud. “Like, you know there will be no  _ dough.”  _

“That’s because reapers have no need for money,” Kravitz starts.

“Speak for yourself, ghostrider! Lifting the gold off of corpses ain’t gonna pay the mortgage! And how are you gonna pay for Ango’s college fund?”

“I have centuries worth of wealth accumulated,” Kravitz says, voice flat. 

Lup takes a breath, then gives a sharp nod. “...Okay. Point made. Guess Bear and I will just be homeless for a couple of centuries, no big.”

“It’s really not a problem,” Barry says, leaning in to Regina. “We don’t have a mortgage.” 

“Well  _ some of us  _ want to take our boys out to a nice restaurant!” Lup shakes her head, muttering in a faux-irritated manner, “If I can’t insult some fancy fuck’s cooking then  _ what  _ is the  _ point.”  _

He snorts his amusement, summoning his scythe as Kravitz opens up a rift for them. Barry and Lup take point, and then Regina, and finally Kravitz after her, the four of them gearing up for the Raven Queen’s first bounty. 


	2. Chapter 2

Reaper scythes are forged with a specific set of magicks. The Raven Queen hand-picks metalsmiths as they pass into her domain, blesses their work with her own divine essence before it is quenched in the Astral Sea. They can cut down any undead and through the spaces between planes themselves, equipping Her reapers with the perfect tools to carry out Her will. 

Stepping through the rift has barely a second’s delay, a shift of *inches* whisking them from Her castle in the Astral Plane back to the Material, out onto snow-dusted mountains and grey clouds overhead.  The shift in altitude gives Lup and Barry pause, both of them, needing a moment to pull air back into their lungs, functioning respiratory systems that they have.

They’re high in the mountains, a layer of fog shrouding their surroundings, frigid weather that would chill a living being. Kravitz sees Lup conjure a flame in her palm, clasping the same hand with her husband. When she caught Kravitz’s gaze, she grins, wiggling her fingers around the hilt of her scythe. “You want in on this action?”

Kravitz sniffs, and rolls his eyes. “That’s entirely unprofessional.” 

“That’s  _ cool,”  _ Lup drawls. “Bear and I, however, are quite warm. How about you, ‘Gina? You want summa this?” 

Regina stares at them. Lup dematerializes her scythe entirely, extending a hand with an encouraging, “Eh? Eh?”

“Lup, she’s not —” Kravitz cuts himself off as Regina takes Lup’s hand, leaving two liches and the Raven Queen in a daisy chain. His eyes fall shut. “Oh, my Queen,” he mutters, a curse.

“Yes?” Regina says, eyes fixing on him. 

He’s silent. Lup and Barry are silent. Lup is  _ still _ holding hands with the Raven Queen. 

“Yes.” Regina repeats. “The Raven Queen. Is.  _ Your  _ Queen. That is a correct observation.” She nods decidedly. 

“That sure is a true statement,” Barry chimes in. 

“Very factual,” Lup grins. 

Kravitz blows a breath out of his nostrils. A shame that, unlike his two partners, they can’t  _ see  _ his breath. He’d love for them to visualize his ire. “... _ Right.”  _ He says, with a shake of his head. “Now that we’ve confirmed that, why don’t we do the jobs the Raven Queen hired us for? Barold, if you would please give Regina the summary of our mission?”

Barry nods. Instead of letting go of Lup’s hand, he dismisses his scythe. Kravitz lets out a long-suffering sigh. A book manifests in its stead, blown open by an unfelt breeze. “We’re going after an aasimar named Lorien. He  _ was  _ intended to serve uh…” Barry grimaces, flipping through the pages. “... a god… um.  _ Ilmater _ , there it is. Well, instead he decided to serve a demon.”

“A very specific demon,” Kravitz picks up. 

And Lup adds, slinging an arm around Regina’s shoulders and leaning in close as though to share a secret, “A demon that Bird Mama  _ really  _ does not like. You ever heard of Orcus?” 

Regina’s eyes flash. Kravitz isn’t sure if he should feel pleased or worried to see how she bristled at that, Lup’s eyes going a bit wide as she realizes Regina is quite literally radiating darkness, a black aura that saps the light from the snow. “I see,” Regina says, voice deathly calm. “How wonderful. Orcus will be pleased to hear another of his servants is within my stockade.” 

Suddenly, her magic snaps back into her form. Lup’s smile is more of gritted teeth, ears pinned back, Barry hovering anxiously beside the two of them. “By which I mean my Queen’s stockade, of course,” Regina corrects. “Let us go, then, I am eager to collect this particular bounty.” She grabs Lup’s hand, and Lup’s tightens around Barry’s, and then Barry grabs Kravitz’s, and the four of them go trooping down a switchback path along the mountainside.

“Watch your step,” Barry warns, and Lup nudges Regina around a patch of ice. Mist curls in the air, obscuring anything more than ten feet away from them, utterly inscrutable a little beyond that range. True sight does nothing to clear the fog, but a natural sense for souls guides them. They can feel their bounty, and the prickle of necromantic magic. Barry perks up a little, until Kravitz clears his throat in a purposeful manner. He doesn’t miss the pout on the man’s face, or Lup’s quiet snicker. 

“Our bounty should be just over the side,” Kravitz says, projecting his words directly to his companions. “Barry, if you would?” 

“Sure thing boss.” Barry shuts his eyes. His magic is a dark red, and that is the color that peels open, two arcane eyes settled just below his own. He can see the slit pupils roaming and darting, observing what they cannot down below. 

“...I see him,” Barry mumbles. “He’s got two companions with him, a, uh… a half-elf and a dragonborn, bronze. Half-elf’s got two swords, I can’t see any weapons on the dragonborn. They’re making a ritual circle — oh  _ what  _ the _ fuck.”  _

“What?” Kravitz straightens up, startled. 

Barry’s expression is pinched. “ _ Gods. _ No, don’t use that. He’s using the rune for  _ protect _ when he should use  _ seal.  _ Good news, guys, our bounty is an idiot. _ ”  _

Kravitz’s eyes dart to Regina, who’s observing them from the end of their chain.  _ “Thank you,  _ Barold,” he says, voice terse, “your background as a necromancer is  _ apparent.”  _

“Oh.” The magic fades from his cheeks, replaced by a blush — deeper than the flush from the cold — and Barry’s eyes flicker open, his face sheepish. He mouths an apology, and Kravitz scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Um. Well, it looks like he’s in the process of raising a mass grave. We should probably stop that.” 

“Oh,  _ you think?”  _ Kravitz rolls his eyes. “Okay. I’ll lead this one. Lup, come with me for the first wave. We’ll try to make it fast, but  _ if  _ we need backup, Barold and Regina will provide it. Ready?”

“Oh you  _ know  _ it.” Their chain breaks as Kravitz and Lup both part. He watches as Lup’s form flickers, her shadow enveloping herself, Lup becoming transparent with his truesight, but invisible to any mortal. 

Kravitz himself stretches, lets his Queen’s magic embrace him. His constructed body shifts and shrinks until he’s compressed himself in the form of a raven. He looks to his companions, opens his beak to caw, and then extends his wings to take to the air, Lup slipping down the mountainside in his wake. 

  
  
  


Lup admits that she didn’t like Kravitz at first. Didn’t  _ trust  _ him, when she was in the umbrella, was yelling at the curtains that surrounded her as she could only stand around and  _ watch  _ her brother fall for his tricks. She wouldn’t have it, convinced he was only there to collect his bounty and eradicate the lich Taako didn’t know he carried at his side.

But Kravitz never came to collect. He reappeared time after time, and Lup kept spitting sparks until Taako left her  _ behind.  _ Trapped, unable to move, anxiety clawing at her insides and her hands clawing at the walls, certain that he’d never come back, he’d be dead, and she’d be alone.

And then Taako returned, and she behaved herself so he would take her along for the next date. Things were fuzzy in the umbrella, unable to get more than snatches of Kravitz, bits and pieces to patch together a messy puzzle of pieces forced together. 

Then the umbrella snapped, and she was free, she finally  _ met  _ him, finally  _ saw  _ him. And she saw that Taako  _ loved  _ him, and beneath the happiness for him and the relief to be free, there was something  _ bitter.  _

They’ve always been together. And the crew, that was  _ different,  _ because they integrated into their lives  _ together.  _ Even Barry was simultaneous, two different paths at the same rate — Barry was Taako’s friend, and  _ her  _ friend, long before he was Lup’s partner. And when  _ that  _ happened, he became Taako’s  _ brother,  _ it was constant, it was mutual, Lup and Taako were twins, and they were apart of the Starblaster, and they loved their crew, and they did it  _ together.  _

But Taako loved Kravitz, and Lup did not. 

It’s still  _ weird.  _ It’s not going to  _ stop  _ being weird for a long, long time. What she’d thought was maybe two, three years turned out to be over a decade that Taako had to live without her, and when she came back he had a family, a boyfriend and a kid and sweet little Ren and his friend Hurley, he had a life that she was separate from. 

And it would be easy to resent that. She couldn’t, though. He’s her  _ brother,  _ and she needs to try for him. 

And once she started trying, it stopped becoming difficult, because it turns out Kravitz is a pretty likeable guy. Today she lurks in the snow with a grin splitting her face. His caw is a cue, and she snaps her fingers. A flashbang has his shadow lurching over the clearing, all three of their targets flinching as he lands. Black flames curl into tendrils, lashing outwards as his form grows, a feathered monstrosity that retreats into itself and leaves her boss standing in their midst, tattered cloak and scarlet lights glowing within his skull. 

_ “Heretics to the order of this world, bow your putrid heads in honor of Her Inevitable Majesty. She has condemned your vile souls; surrender yourselves and we may yet show you mercy.” _

If there’s one thing Lup should have known, it’s that Taako could  _ only  _ pick a boy who was a total theater junkie. They both like nerds of different flavors, dipped in a healthy coating of goth, and she has to admit that his penchant for drama makes the job a lot more  _ fun.  _

Lup reveals herself here, pushing off the mountainside. She lands beside him, a low ring of fire rolling out from the roles of her shoes, burning away the snow and making their bounties skitter back and over the flames. “Or don’t,” she chirps, summoning her scythe in another, swirling blaze. It spins in a ring of fire over her raised and open hand, coming to a halt in time for her to clasp fingers around it and plant the hilt against the ground. “It’s  _ so  _ much more fun when they fight.” 

They don’t, of course. He’s a worshipper of  _ Orcus,  _ a confrontation with the Queen’s reapers is inevitable. So when Lorien brings a knife over his palm to scatter his blood across the ground, Lup is already springing forward. She brings her scythe in a vicious arc, cursing as she  _ just  _ misses the aasimar. 

“Six o’clock, Lup.” Kravitz’s voice is a lazy drawl, his hand at her back lending magic to her legs and Lup dances out of the way as the half-elf swipes a blade. She steps atop the powder snow, suddenly light, a grin stretching her face as she watches their bounties stumble through the frost. 

Kravitz slips behind the half-elf, scythe hooking across his waist. The half-elf’s eyes roll up and he collapses, an orb of light left in the air that Kravitz herds through a portal. 

“One down!” Lup cheers, grinning and spinning on her heel to track down their real target. Then she pauses. “Oh,  _ fuck.”  _

The blood. Right.  _ Stupid,  _ Barry had  _ told them  _ — ugh. “Heads, up, bones, we’ve got some new friends joining the party!”

The moment Lorien splashed his blood on the earth, it awakened those underneath. A mass grave, she can see an amalgamation of undead digging themselves up. Skeletons, some with rotting flesh still clinging to their bones, some with tarnished armor, all pulling themselves out of the dirt. 

Kravitz curses. He gives a whistle, loud and shrill, then snaps, “Focus on Lorien. We  _ cannot  _ let him get away.” 

Lup scans the area. Then she breaks away, spotting him and his dragonborn companion. She flits towards them, leaving Kravitz to either follow or deal with the skeletons. Lorien is still moving away, but the dragonborn pauses, lifting a hand. A hand, she realizes, they is entwined with laurel. 

_ Damn it.  _

The clouds overhead breaks. Frigid water that freeze into chunks of ice hail down on her, Lup throwing her arms up over her head. It bruises her arms and back, the chill biting into her skin. She grits her teeth, forcing herself onwards, steps slow against the storm —

— and then an arc of light opens up. A hand stretches through, and Lup lurches for it, grabbing hold to let herself be pulled through the portal and into Barry’s chest. 

“Hey, babe,” he says, the sheepish smile audible in his voice. 

“Thanks for the save.” Lup straightens up to kiss his cheek, and then whirls around with a vengeance. She can see Regina down here, too, flanked by Kravitz. The two of them made a gorgeous pair, Regina’s cape twirling around her as she cuts down a line of skeletons in the clear earth where Lup already melted the snow. Kravitz slips effortlessly around her, protecting her back, shielded by her shadow. And beyond them, having paused to delight in the scene, is Lorien. 

Lup whistles, and then breaks into a sprint. “Hey, ghost rider!” She shouts, “Portal Two! Portal Two!”

Kravitz breaks off immediately, Regina filling the gap without a pause. He cuts his way to the outskirts of the army and then opens a rift just above the ground. Its twin hovers in the air, directly above it, and Lup cackles before jumping in.

She falls out the top and into the bottom. Out the top into the bottom, again and again, and it only takes a few seconds to hit terminal velocity. She doesn’t see when Kravitz does it, but on one pass he cuts a new portal, and when she falls into that one, she’s launched out horizontally, feet first, and directly into Lorien’s skull.

It snaps his neck on impact. Lup goes tumbling, another portal opening up to spill her out and back into Barry’s arms, where she hangs her head back with a laugh, clinging to his neck. “It worked!” She cheers. “Holy  _ shit!”  _

Barry lifts her steady, taking a moment to kiss her lips. “We’ve still got the dragonborn and the skeleton army to take care of,” he says. 

Lup blows a raspberry. “Lame. Can’t you just, like, get the skeletons on  _ our  _ side?” 

“No necromancy,” he reminds her, rueful. 

“ _ Ugh.”  _ Lup rolls her eyes. “Old fashioned immolation it is. You wanna take care of the last dude? Kravitz and I already got one each.”

“Sounds good,” Barry flashes her a smile before they part ways, Lup finding Kravitz and Regina again as Barry skirts around the cluster of skeletons — as soon as they cut one down, another is taking its place. Lup spins her scythe, letting heat sear through her veins, fire cling to the edge of her blade, and it funnels outward, around her companions, consuming a cone of undead and leaving ashes and scattered armor behind. 

_ Gods  _ she loves this job. 

  
  
  


Barry lingers just long enough to see his wife burning away her enemies. A lovestruck smile crosses his face — she’s  _ incredible.  _

And  _ he  _ has a job to do. Barry drags his gaze away, catching the tail of the dragonborn as he makes a break for a gap in the mountain walls. They’re all standing in a basin, the area enclosed by steep slopes, but there’s a tunnel system opening the way out. 

He portals in front of the dragonborn, stepping out with a red hood manifesting around his face, the skin shimmering to let his skull peek through, eyes darkening to cyan lights that blare at his target. The dragonborn falters and backpedals as Barry lurches closer, scythe in hand, shoes crunching in the snow.

A vine breaks out of the ground. Barry cuts it down and jerks forward, taking another swing that misses. He’s not so used to striking with a  _ weapon,  _ and a curse spills between his teeth. The dragonborn’s hands are up, channeling a new spell, his jaws moving around word Barry cannot hear. Then he lifts his hand to his mouth and sinks his teeth in, drawing blood. 

Blood magic — almost definitely necromancy.  _ Gods,  _ Barry wishes that could be him. The dragonborn opens his mouth, a command in his voice as he says, “Aid me!” 

Barry can’t look around to see what he’s summoning. Sparks are flaring in the dragonborn’s maw, and he has a second to throw himself out of the way before a mouthful of lightning spits in his direction. It catches his legs, pain flaring and muscles seizing for a moment. Barry tumbles, back, and then directly into the blade of a skeleton rushing to the dragonborn’s side. 

“Babe, you good!” Lup shouts across the clearing, amid the sound of furious caws.  _ Regina  _ had apparently summoned the Queen’s spectral ravens to tear apart the undead. 

“I’m fine!” Barry calls back, as he grabs onto the skeleton, power flashing under his palm and leaving it collapsing in a pile of bones. The sword is left stuck through his abdomen, which sucks. 

Then a circle of light shimmers around him. He squints, the illumination dim but its silvery tone hurting his eyes. It’s radiant, he realizes. 

“Oh,  _ shit _ —” Barry scrambles. His foot slips on a patch of ice and he hits the ground instead, a grunt sounding out of his throat. 

It wracks into a scream as the radiance burns him, leaves him falling to his knees and then his corpse falling onto its side, limp, eyes open and unseeing. 

And Barry pulls himself out of his carcass, red lightning skittering over the ground as he manifests. 

**_That was a mistake._ **

He sees the horror in the dragonborn’s eyes, and he revels in it. He  _ wants _ it. Barry longs to lift a hand and strike him down with the limitless power he’s attained — his soul is charged with it,  _ potential,  _ the ability to rend and destroy and the temptation is  _ there.  _ It’s always been there, but twelve years have bent it into a hunger. 

Then he sees Lup, and Kravitz, and Regina. In the split second pause, their eyes are riveted upon him. And Barry pulls himself back, pulls his scythe from the ether, and swings. 

“I cannot believe you,” Kravitz scolds, as Barry drifts towards them. He’s summoned a few grims, the black hounds racing among the skeletals and tearing them apart with glee. They’ll be free to go back to their graveyards once they’re through here, new bones in their mouths and tails wagging. One pauses, growls at Barry, but when he clicks his fingers and scratches it behind the ear, it gives up the pretense. 

“Sorry, boss,” Barry says, hood ducking in a sheepish manner. “I. I slipped. Um. How long do I have to wait for a new body?”   
  
Kravitz manifests his skin just so he has a nose to pinch. “We’ll figure that out later,” he huffs. “In the meantime, do you have any ideas on how to shut this down? We’ll be here for ages waiting for all of them to crawl out.” 

Another skeleton gets to its feet, only to immediately be knocked to the ground as ravens fly for its skull. A grim bounds for it, humerus yanked away from the clavicle, ribs snapped off and sent flying, and it bounds away with a femur in its mouth, a happy huff leaving its maw as it races for the next one. 

Barry shrugs. “If I’m on a necromantic ban, then no. I don’t really get  _ why  _ it’s banned — we fight necromancers, why the hell shouldn’t we play their game?” It’s irritated and maybe a little bit whiny. Kravitz hisses at him, jerking his head to the side. Barry doesn’t have to turn his hood — the burning light under it shifts, vision sweeping to see Regina working nearby. She’s perfectly unruffled, surrounded by her summoned flock, letting them tear apart the skeletons while she stands by and watches them. 

_ Shit.  _ Barry would wince if he could. “... Right.” He wishes, now, that he’d put more effort into self preservation. Going lich in front of the Raven Queen — bad fucking idea. 

Barry pushes down his anxiety. “Hey — Lup?” He calls. 

She’s also stepped out of the fight, looking up from a game of fetch with one of the grims. “Yeah, babe?”

He drifts towards her to speak. The two of them end up drawing up a fire trap, sending the grims and the ravens back to their homes. His lich form allows him to bolster Lup’s magic, setting up a massive rune to summon a constant fire until the last of the undead have crawled out of the ground. 

The four of them perch up on a ledge to watch the flames. The only evidence that the skeletons are still rising are faint shadows in the flames, falling upon contact. “So,” Lup says, turning her head to look past Kravitz and at Regina. “What did’ja think of your first mission?”

She’s quiet for a long while, and Barry feels his anxiety crawl through his soul. 

“Informative,” she says at last. “I think I’ve learned something very valuable from this.” 

  
  
  


She has seen the Eternal Stockade, of course. She built it herself, long before she had her reapers. It’s changed in the long, long stretch of her existence as the Raven Queen, though. Kravitz guides her through the corridors, the three souls they’d collected tethered to him by chains of energy. 

“We’ll be keeping Lorien in our high security cells,” Kravitz says, “in case his patron tries to break him out.” 

“He would,” Regina sniffs. “He is, as Lup might say, a  _ petty bitch.”  _

Kravitz stumbles. A laugh puffs out of him, and Regina finds she’s pleased by that. She likes to hear her reaper happy. She likes to bring him that happiness. “That is so,” he agrees, a bit less tense in his voice. “The other two, though, probably won’t be staying here long. They’re accomplances in these crimes, and the dragonborn  _ did  _ exhibit a history of necromancy, but ultimately their souls aren’t too corrupt. They’ll be safe in the Astral Sea in no time.” 

Regina doesn’t need to respond to that, and so she stays perfectly silent. 

Many of the souls, as Kravitz explained, as Regina already knew, would be grouped together at this time. Their free hours, during which they could meet with reapers that specialize in emotional matters, talk among the others in the stockade. Not all of them opted to, though, the more violent souls thrashing at the bars, others silent and somber, refusing to move. All would find peace, eventually. 

Up here, the stockade is quieter, calmer. Save for one soul. 

“ _ Kravitz.”  _ The voice, high pitched and lilting, peels out. Kravitz tenses, and then hurries his pace, chased by a call of, “Yoo-hoo!  _ Krrravitz,  _ darling!” 

A hand sticks out from the bars of one cell, dark skin and lavender nails, waving up and down. Kravitz brushes past it, but Regina turns her head as she passes. A dark elf meets her eyes, and then breaks out into a fangy smile. “Hello there, dear,” he greets. “Would be be so kind as to call my friend over?” 

Regina regards him for a moment. Then she turns her head, says, “Kravitz, one of the souls wishes to speak with you.”

Kravitz freezes mid-step. Then, tense, he swings around and strides back towards Regina. “That’s okay, I can handle this at a later time.” 

“No,” Regina says, “you can handle this now.”

Kravitz is quiet. She watches him, sees his throat bob. Funny — he’s almost acting like a living being. “Alright,” he says, inclining his head to her. “Um. Regina, this is Brian. Brian, this is Regina. She is… a new recruit. And I am trying. To make. A good.  _ Impression.”  _ His eyes slit into a glare.

The dark elf seems to disregard it. “Oh it’s so  _ wonderful _ to meet you. As he said, my name is Brian. Welcome to the Astral Plane, darling, how are you liking it so far?” He leans against the bars, all his weight on one foot, the other crossed around his ankle. 

She tips her head to one side. “It has been a learning experience,” she tells him. “Kravitz has been in charge of my… training. I would say he’s done. Well.” She doesn’t pay her reaper much mind as he straightens up, still watching Brian. “You seem to be familiar with him.”

“Oh, yes, Kravitz has been a godsend. Literally, in certain cases.” He titters, and Regina finds a sound puffing out of her mouth. She blinks, startled. That had been — what? A strange little  _ hah  _ noise, like the one Kravitz made when he laughed. “Unfortunately he did have to arrest me and lock me up in here, but, _ cie la vie.”  _ He gives a shrug. “He’s usually such good conversation, but it seems today I may be on his shitlist, hm?”

Brian’s eyes shift to Kravitz this time, whose jaw flexes. “That’s not it, I’m just —” 

“—Ignoring poor Brian, I understand.” He shakes his head in a mournful way. “You are a busy, busy reaper and I am but a singular soul among many. Please, go on. I will be here, all alone.” And he drapes a hand over his eyes, the other waving them along. 

Regina is perfectly content to take him up on that, but she watches Kravitz. He’s pinching his nose — he does that a lot, she realizes — with his eyes squeezed shut. “Fine,” he bites out. “Brian,  _ how are you today?”  _

“Thank you for  _ asking,”  _ He gasps, though Regina is pretty sure it’s faked. Her lips twitch upward. “Well, the day certainly is going, I assume. Time is a little funny here, so there’s not much news. How about you, my dear friend, tell me about  _ you.  _ How is Taako, how is the little one? Angus had a game recently, no?” 

“He — he did.” Kravitz’s gaze keeps flicking back to her. “His, uh, his team lost, but that’s because Angus did end up figuring out that his teammate’s dad was cheating on his mother, and they got disqualified for fighting. I made Angus apologize, of course.”

“Of course,” Brian nods sagely. “Yes, that little rascal gets himself into trouble quite a bit, doesn’t he? It’s good that he’s got you to keep an eye out!” 

Kravitz smiles, something  _ strange  _ and  _ soft.  _ It’s not a look she’s ever seen on her reaper’s face, and Regina finds herself staring. When Kravitz catches her gaze, the look drops away, and she feels something inside of her drop as well.  _ Disappointment.  _  “Um. Anyway, I  _ am  _ on the clock right now, Brian. I’ll come and visit you later.” 

“Oh, certainly, don’t let me keep you!” Kravitz snorts at his words. “I’ll be seeing you, then, darling!” 

Kravitz is quick to sweep back down along the corridor, Regina following at his side in silence. They pass by cells, sink deeper into the stockade, where bars are replaced with solid doors, where the worst of their souls are kept. She can hear the howling of liches, a pair collected together, as their souls are slowly, painfully cleansed. The sheer degree of corruption that had burnt into their essence means it will be a while yet before they can begin their recovery. 

But Regina feels no sympathy for them, nor for the soul that Kravitz locks away in the newest cell. She sees the orb reshape into its humanoid imprint, a snarling face that is hidden by the resounding slam of the door, a roar drowned out as chains rattle into a planar seal. Even the most accomplished of necromancers would be unable to break past this barrier. 

“There we are,” Kravitz says, dusting his hands off. “Excellent work on your first mission, m — R-Regina. It was much…  _ longer  _ than I would have liked. Much.  _ Much  _ longer. And  _ eventful.  _ And I  _ will  _ be speaking with Barry about his  _ performance  _ today. Really he should be more careful, his quarterly review is coming up…”

_ Quarterly reviews.  _  “Disgusting,” she mutters, and Kravitz immediately goes silent, wide-eyed. 

“Is — is there something troubling you? Because I assure you, Barry’s, um, incident today was a fluke, he’s usually much more careful.” The feathers on Kravitz’s cloak are lifting, and he drags his hand over the edges to smooth them down. “That’s. The trouble with hiring the Birds, you know, death is still such a frivolous thing to them. I mean. Of course it’s not that they disrespect your — uh,  _ our Queen’s  _ decrees, merely that they’ve forgotten the  _ severity  _ and, well, it’s a process —”

“I was thinking about paperwork,” Regina cuts him off. Kravitz’s ears are nearly perpendicular to his head, the half-elf points twitching anxiously. “Honestly, the lich thing looked kind of rad.”

Kravitz is quiet for a long while. Regina purses her lips, and then reaches to press up on his chin, shutting his mouth with a click of teeth. “Don’t gawk, Kravitz,” she says. 

“...Sorry.” He shakes his head.

“Mmm.” She hums, because apparently it’s good to  _ acknowledge  _ statements, even if they explain themselves. She doesn’t like that nervous look that’s on his face as he looks at her. She much preferred the soft one, when he was speaking about one of his mortal companions. 

“So, Kravitz,” she says. “Tell me about Angus. Is he one of your living friends?”

“He’s…” It’s not hesitation on his face. It’s  _ conflict.  _

“I take care of him,” he finally says. “He’s not human, technically, but he’s taken that form. Regardless, he’s  _ young,  _ he looks around ten or eleven. Taako, my partner, sort of took him in, and I’ve been. Doing my best.”

“Oh,” Regina says, soft, her eyes fixed on Kravitz’s downturned gaze. “I believe I understand.” 

Her crow lifts his head, and she sets her hand upon it. Lifts her hand and drops it back down.  _ Pat pat.  _ That’s the proper way to comfort someone, according to her observations. “Tell me about him,” she commands. Then, she adds, “Please.” 

  
  
  
  


On a sunny day, Angus McDonald is practicing his magic in Taako’s expansive front yard. The placement is mostly at Taako’s insistence, because he likes to show off his protégé to the neighborhood, and he cheers and treats Angus to ice cream or a new book every time a spell misfires into Susan’s window. 

Angus doesn’t try to torment their neighbors. Really, he doesn’t. But the new Caleb Cleveland novel  _ is  _ out, and Taako  _ is  _ standing at the perfect angle for a slot of ice knife to launch right over his shoulder. 

There’s a shatter, and a shriek, and Angus is putting on a countenance of surprise and guilt as Taako’s mouth stretches into a delighted grin. He hears the first note of his cackle, and then a shadow falls over him. 

The sensation is that of his stomach dropping. Angus hasn’t spent much time flying yet, because that’s not the kind of thing you can learn out of a book, but it’s a little like the feeling of taking an unplanned nosedive, meaning it leaves him dizzy on the floor and feeling ready to puke. 

He absolutely does not, though, because he’s pretty sure he’d be puking on a goddess’ floor. 

She’s not how Kravitz described her. An image has never been able to meld into Angus’ brain, but he’s always expected the Raven Queen to be… a bit more of a  _ raven.  _ This is a facsimile of a human, feathered hair and a body just too angular, the proportions just  _ off  _ enough to tip him off that she’s definitely not human. 

“Angus McDonald,” the Raven Queen says, toneless but acknowledging. 

“Ummmm,” Angus says. He’s never met a goddess before. “H — hello?”

“Hello,” she says. 

There’s a beat. Angus’ knees are beginning to hurt, but he’s not sure if he should stand. Her eyes are fixed on him. Judging? Gauging? Is this a test? Is she observing his soul? 

“I would like to issue my condolences for your defeat,” the Raven Queen says, voice dire. “I am certain that next time you will eviscerate those who seek to oppose you.”

He blinks at her. “Okay?” His voice comes out high pitched. “I — I don’t —  _ understand?”  _

Her head tips, eyes still fixed on him. She doesn’t move, Angus realizes, doesn’t shift her weight or breathe or even blink. “The competition,” she states. “Your conquest over the battlefield, in which two institutions are pitted against each other.” 

It clicks, and Angus gawks. Then he snaps his jaws shut. Goddess of death. Kravitz’s — he’s actually not sure what their relationship is, but she’s definitely in charge of him, and aunt Lup and uncle Barry. So he tries to keep his voice level and polite as he asks, “Are you… um, referring to my soccer game?”

“Is that the name of your challenge?” 

“...Yes,” he says, dipping his head. His eyes don’t leave her. Hers don’t leave him. Through his peripheral, he can tell that they are in a fairly regular-looking bedroom — smaller than he’d expect of a goddess, though with the appropriate gothic decor. 

Silence stretches out once more, and this time Angus risks breaking it. 

“Excuse me, um, Your Majesty? I’m not certain how to address you —”

The noise that she’s makes is somewhere between a shriek and a caw, the shadow of a raven peeling away from her face with its beak stretched wide. His soul flinches in his skin and Angus takes a step back. A blink later, and the Raven Queen is perfectly composed again, though her eyes are slitted as she regards him. 

“... So you’ve seen through my facade,” she murmurs, setting fingers over her mouth. “Kravitz did say you were smart.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like it's gonna be a three-parter!
> 
> (Side note: liches aren't actually vulnerable to radiance but. It's fun. These liches are.)

**Author's Note:**

> This is... a _lot_ of fun to write. Let me know what y'all think!


End file.
